


a time for building

by bluebeholder



Series: One and the Same [7]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Fluff with hints of plot, Hair Braiding, M/M, POV Anders (Dragon Age), Past Anders/Karl Thekla, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:35:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23839969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebeholder/pseuds/bluebeholder
Summary: Early summer, 9:37 DragonAnders and Fenris are on the road to Starkhaven to attend a very important meeting. Unfortunately, Anders hasn't had a haircut in a while, and constant fixing is slowing them down. Exasperated, Fenris steps in to help.
Relationships: Anders/Fenris (Dragon Age)
Series: One and the Same [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1654444
Comments: 8
Kudos: 72





	a time for building

**Author's Note:**

> Just fluff, folks, from Anders' POV!

The sensation of his hair tie falling down his collar makes Anders twitch. “Oh, Maker’s _teeth_ —hold up,” he says, raising his voice so Fenris hears him. Anders twists around, trying to pull the hair tie free of his collar as his hair falls in his eyes.

“We cannot keep doing this,” Fenris says, folding his arms as he watches Anders.

“Tell that to my blasted hair,” Anders mutters, finally getting hold of the strip of leather and fishing it from his collar. He looks up to see Fenris watching him with a smirk. Anders’ heart does a little somersault at the sight. “I can’t keep it up anymore.”

Fenris rubs the sole of one foot against his opposite calf. His balance is, as always, flawless; the movement draws Anders’ eye all over his athletic figure. Fenris is _such_ a distraction. He has been for all the time Anders has known him. “You could cut it.”

Anders points at him. “Then you’d complain at me,” he says. “You _like_ it long.”

“That I do,” Fenris admits, the smirk softening a little.

“Then hold up and let me deal with this,” Anders says, reaching up to fumble with the hair tie and try to get his hair out of his eyes again.

Of all the times for his hair to become uncooperative, this is the least convenient. He and Fenris are traveling to Starkhaven for an _extremely_ important meeting. Both of them have been on edge since getting on the road. The last news Anders had said that Sebastian was back on Starkhaven’s throne, which means that going to the city is an incredible risk for both Anders and Fenris. Yet this meeting, of allies in the Mage Underground Anders thought he’d lost, can’t be missed.

But Anders’ hair had already been over-long before leaving Kirkwall, grown rather shaggy from neglect in those bleak final months. After nearly four months on the run, it’s longer than it’s been since he left the Circle. Short of hacking it all off again here and now, there’s nothing to be done about it.

At last he has it up. Fenris gives him a brief nod and keeps walking. Anders takes two steps and the tie promptly falls out.

“Oh, for—”

“ _Fasta vass_ , do you need my dagger to trim it?” Fenris says, turning and looking up at Anders with exasperation. “I would happily exchange your looks for _timely travel_.”

Anders fumbles with the tie again, glaring down at Fenris. “If you’re so impatient, you can just go on without me.”

“This is _your_ meeting,” Fenris says, perfectly calm. “I am not planning to go alone.”

It takes the wind right out Anders’ sails. “Well—you— _fine,_ then,” he says. “Do you think you can do better than I can?”

“Yes, I do,” Fenris says after a pause. He gestures at a large rock a little way up the road. “Sit.”

Anders blinks at Fenris, nonplussed. “What?”

Fenris gives him a light push on the shoulder. “Go sit down, mage,” he says.

Casting Fenris one more confused look, Anders goes to the stone and sits down on it. He leans his staff against the stone and stretches a little. If nothing else, this will be a pleasant respite. Fenris follows, unstrapping his greatsword as he goes, to sit behind Anders on the stone. As Fenris settles there, Anders reflects that only Fenris could make ‘mage’ sound so unbearably _fond_.

The clanking of metal alerts Anders that Fenris took off his gauntlets. He looks over his shoulder to find Fenris stretching out his hands. “Thank you for deciding not to tear off my scalp,” Anders teases.

“I’ll save that for another day,” Fenris says. Anders closes his eyes as Fenris presses a light kiss to the shell of his ear.

Without another word, Fenris gets to work. He combs his fingers through Anders’ hair, which falls an inch or more past his jaw. Although they’re on the open road, there’s no one else around save the birds and the squirrels chattering in the trees. With the soothing touch, Anders lets himself relax. He leans back on his hands, basking in the sun on his face.

“No wonder you like cats so much,” Fenris says. He begins working on Anders’ hair, tugging it into sections as if to braid it. “You seem like one yourself today.”

“I’ve always liked having my hair touched,” Anders says. He feels the old ache in his heart soothed a little by the calm of the moment. “Karl used to comb my hair, when we were in the Circle. No one questioned friends helping each other out. It was his idea. And his was never long enough for me to return the favor…”

Fenris’ hands don’t stop moving, merely continue working at a steady pace. This steadiness, the refusal to be jealous of Anders’ past, is one of the many things Anders appreciates about Fenris. He’d have felt nervous speaking so casually of Karl to anyone else, but Fenris…now that they’ve sorted out many of their differences, Anders trusts Fenris to be tactful. “He did it to convince you to be silent for a while, didn’t he?”

“Sometimes,” Anders admits with a smile.

“The man was a genius when it came to you,” Fenris says, a smile audible in his voice. He pauses and kisses the top of Anders’ head, lingering just a little. His voice is very soft when he speaks. “I am very glad I am not the first to do this for you, amatus.”

Anders swallows past a lump in his throat. “So am I,” he says. He clears his throat and blinks away a few stray tears. “If we’re sharing memories, I have to ask. _Why_ do you know how to braid hair?”

“That is a mystery even to me,” Fenris says. His fingers trail over Anders’ nape slowly, gathering loose strands of hair. “Isabela asked me for help once or twice and she remarked on it too.”

“One of those missing memories,” Anders says. He pauses a moment, searching for a cautious way forward. Fenris’ missing past is a sensitive subject for him, and one he doesn’t bring up lightly.

But Fenris fills the silence for him. “My hands know what they are doing, even if my mind does not,” he says. It feels like he’s nearly done, adjusting the work with gentle tugs. “I must have done this for my sister and mother often.”

“From what I remember of your sister, you’d have had to be a professional hairdresser to work with all of that,” Anders says, keeping his tone light.

Fenris laughs softly. “Perhaps that was my intended line of work.” There’s one final tug as Fenris ties up the braid. He pats Anders on the back of the head. “I am finished.”

“Judging by the feel of this, you could _still_ do it,” Anders says, giving his head an experimental shake. There’s still a good deal of hair out of the braid, but none of it falls in his eyes or comes loose from whatever braid Fenris put it in.

“Trade my sword for a barber’s razor, is that it?” Fenris asks. Anders feels Fenris lean into him, chest to Anders’ back and strong arms sliding around his waist. A sharp chin comes to rest on Anders’ shoulder, heedless of the feathers.

Anders covers Fenris’ hand with his own, lacing their fingers together. It feels safe in Fenris’ arms like this. “ _That_ would be a sight to see.”

“Someday, perhaps,” Fenris says. The weight of him rests more heavily against Anders, his hold loosening a little as he relaxes. “For now, Starkhaven awaits.”

“It does do that, doesn’t it,” Anders says.

He makes no move to rise. Nor does Fenris. Anders closes his eyes, the warmth of the sun on his face and Fenris sturdy and solid against his back. Now he can hear the singing of the lyrium lines on Fenris’ skin, that eerie, comforting sound he can only hear because Justice is listening to it.

Being this close to Fenris makes Anders feel settled in his bones. The anxious energy he’s always carried and Justice’s constant drive to be _doing_ something have blended in him until he doesn’t know which is which. Fenris silences all of it and leaves peace in his wake.

For a moment, Anders can close his eyes, and simply _be_.

**Author's Note:**

> Next fic in this series is almost straight plot, so be on the lookout for that.


End file.
